Much Too Soon
by Ski000Girl
Summary: We'd never been religious but her we were celebrating the second of life's milestones. Both had been clebrated in this church. We'd wed here only mere years ago and now i was saying my final farewells to the love of my life. You were taken much too soon.


Mindlessly her hand wandered up to the base of her neck and grasped the small gold pendant that rested there

Mindlessly her hand wandered up to the base of her neck and grasped the small gold pendant that rested there. The metal was cold, but that didn't fase her. Nothing had really for the past six days.

Six long days and six equally long and sleepless nights. They were imprinted into her brain and she knew that whatever happened she would never forget the past week. To much had happened, life changing things that would cut the deepest wounds and infect them so while they may appear to be healed at first glance, what they actually were was anything but.

xxx.:.x.:.xxx

We had never been religious but here I was watching them carry his coffin down the aisle towards the alter. It was a path I'd walked not to long before. The only difference was he was taking this memorable walk in a box. His last journey.

The six men-four of the places occupied by his surviving brothers, his brother at heart and the final spot the one that should have been for his late brother was filled by Neville. They placed the wooden box down at the alter amidst the sea of flowers and then proceeded to their seats.

It had only been a short time ago that we had stood up there, before these same faces and promised each other, 'Forever and Always, t'il death do us part.' Well death had come much sooner than either of us had expected.

The minister rose to his feet and his white robes billowed around him as he began the wake. None of his words sank in to me. I didn't need a minister to soften the blows. I'd asked for, no demanded the truth and no matter how reluctantly they had gave it to me. I knew that his death was not caused by an accident as the Ministry had so kindly released it to the papers and family as. They would have been content to let the truth stay buried if it wasn't for my feeling that something wasn't right. I'd gone and demanded the truth and it had been granted to me. His death was no accident. He had been killed while on a mission in Spain by a few still stray and remaining loyal Death Eaters. He had died in Harry's arms. Harry and I as well as a select few in-the-know people knew this fact. Harry hadn't even divulged this heartbreaking news to Ginny. He had instead bared this heavy burden all on his own.

The speeches carried into the procession line. I found myself being the only on in the group dry eyed. Mrs. Weasley had only been there for a short time before she was whisked away by my mother to give her some privacy to grieve. Ginny clung to Harry as if he was a life preserver and she was a drowning sailor on her last breath. Harry kept up face the whole, more for Ginny's benefit that anyone else's. He was no stranger to death but that hadn't made it any easier, the moisture in his eyes revealed that.

The service was very formal and ministry planned. The crisp seams of my black dressed irritated my skin, my heeled shoes caused shooting pains up my legs and the veil I had been told to wear by my mother was making my eyes go wonky having to look through it. But at least I could still feel something.

When that knock at the door had risen me-that knock as it would be forever known to me as, along with that night-from a dead sleep I had been surprised. More that I had actually been having a peaceful sleep than at the fact that somebody was disturbing me at such and ungodly hour. I remember padding down the stairs in my bathrobe and slippers. What a sight I must have been to them when I opened the door, hair astray and wand in hand. You could never be to careful.

Harry had been in front and instantly I knew. Ron and he were supposed to be together at all times, but where was he now? My fears were confirmed when Harry reached out for my arm and asked if we could sit down. Already I could see his lips quivering and the tears pooling. We walked into the small living room but I remember refusing to sit down. I felt that if I sat that would be the first stage of submission. I may never get up afterwards. Begging him to get it over with Harry revealed the truth or altered truth as I would later learn. Not one tear escaped my eyes and Harry stared at me in confusion, I was the wife I was supposed to throw myself at him and be in much worse a shape than him. The seconds ticked by and Harry asked me if I understood what he had said. Obviously fearing I had gone into shock. In shock my foot. I knew exactly what was going on. As a matter of fact I probably had more acute senses than ever. Every noise was amplified, every colour seemed sharper-almost too bright, and I knew it was not the reaction I was supposed to have. Instead I knew I should be curled up in a ball and begging for mercy and it to not be I true. I guess in a way I had always prepared myself for this night. You couldn't criss-cross the world searching out killers without knowing that death could come knocking at any given moment.

It turned out I was the first one to learn of the tragedy, not even his mother was notified first. Later I was told that the spouse was always told first and then the parents. Much to Harry's protests I said that I should be there when everyone else was told. He protested and even went as far as ordering me to stay put but I would have none of that. Maybe the only reason he finally relented was because he didn't want to leave me by myself for fear of what I may do. The reason I wanted to go was because I knew that the others would need comforting. They would all take it so horribly and who could blame them. This was so unexpected.

Once dressed I tagged along to The Burrow. We walked up to the door and knocked. No answer came at first but that was understandable. It was after all the dead of night. Eventually we heard footsteps scurrying down the hall towards the door in a haste. Like I, panic swept across her face and a hand flew to her mouth when she saw who was disturbing them so late at night, and minus two people. Was it Ginny or Ron she must have been thinking, or both? Then her eyes fell on me, calm and collected and appearing as if I was showing up for a pleasant Sunday tea. Her fear turned to confusion as she ushered us inside but when we urged her to call for her husband it was renewed once again.

I revealed why we had come and their fears were confirmed as mine had been. Mrs. Weasley collapsed to the floor and sobbed. Her husband tried to help her but he was to upset to offer much comfort so I got down to her level and held the grieving mother close. She had experienced this horrible pain only a few short years before after the Battle of Hogwarts and Fred's demise. She had still not recovered. It was safe to say that now with this added on grief she would never again be like her old bubbly self. Something's could never heal and losing a child, never mind two fell right there. A child should never die before their parents.

Mr. Weasley had promised that he would notify the rest of his children about their brothers untimely fate but Harry and I both said we'd tell Ginny.

We headed over to Harry and Ginny's sophisticated flat not much later. Both of them were making extremely good money and doing what they loved so they had bought this spacious and ultra modern flat.

Harry's key slipped into the locks and he effortlessly twisted the handle. Once inside the flat he disappeared into the bedroom to wake his peacefully sleeping wife. He led her half dazed body out into the kitchen and waited for her to fully wake up.

When we told her what had happened Ginny let out a shriek that must have left the neighbors wondering if someone was dying.

Like at The Burrow I couldn't help but think that I was playing witness to an array of emotions that I should be showing and experiencing.

In the whole six days I stayed dry eyed. So much so that people even began to wonder if I was functioning okay. A few people even started to whisper that I'd never loved my husband and I was secretly relieved he was dead so I could go and marry my lover. All of it were lies. I loved him with all my heart and will until the day I die.

The ministry officials on cue sent sparks flying into the air and they rained down on everyone. Eventually the last of the mourners left the small cemetery behind the church. I was the only on left standing there except for the two young men waiting to lower the coffin into the ground; my husband into the ground. I shivered despite the perfectly clear weather. It was truly a perfect day for Ron's last day above ground. With no one watching my every move I walked up to the beautiful box. All the while talking. I told him how much I loved him but I also stuck in a few harsh words. Like why'd he have to be so stupid to get himself killed? Why paint a perfect picture. As I stood beside the coffin, slowly tracing patterns on the shiny wood my emotions finally got the better of me. About time. When they came though they came in full force. A weeks worth of anguish released at all once. I threw myself down on the coffin and for the first and last time played the role of grieving widow perfectly. That was because I wasn't faking.

What drew me back to my senses was the crying of a few baby birds. Calling out to their mother for food. They kept calling but their mother never returned or answered. I couldn't be that mother bird. I laid my hands down on my protruding stomach and whispered, "mommy will never leave you baby. And Daddy never will either. He'll always be in our hearts." If there was one thing that I could be thankful for it was sitting right there in side of me. Ron may be gone but he had given me a baby and every day I would wake up and see him in our baby.

I didn't look back as I walked across the cemetery. My tears had been shed although brief and I had to be strong. Our baby couldn't sufferer because of this and I couldn't let it control my life. Things happen and you have to get up and brush yourself off when life pushed you down. What else can you do? Nothing but treasures what you have. Everyone else-Mrs. Weasley, Ginny-I hope will eventually pull through but they will always grieve. Myself I will stop grieving, my grief was brief but I would never forget. Life's to short to focus on what could have been.

xxx.:.x.:.xxx

a/n This story is based loosely on a family I know and how they reacted to their husband/brother/son's death. The wife was pregnant at the time and while everyone almost three years later is still not doing so well she has become the strong one. I honestly don't know how she does it ever day. This story touched me a lot because of the relation and I hope it did to you as well. Reviews would be greatly appreciated as always. Please tell me what you think.


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